Chapter 20
“...this filth off the street!”
Sally Sugar’s voice was so out of place mixed in with my current dream of wolf pups and toffee that it took a solid minute to identify Sebastien’s neighbor with my eyes squinched shut against the dawn. In the end, it was the scent of the other female’s yippy little poodle that clinched the deal, along with the way said beast worried at my shirt sleeve before leaping away in terror the instant I opened my eyes.
“Ma’am, it looks to me like you should have called an ambulance.”
Blinking blearily, I took in the portions of the rebutting male that were visible from my ground-side vantage point. Perfectly shined shoes, white socks, and—when I peered as hard as I could at his name tag—the words “Officer Peterson” inscribed on a metal plate pinned to
